


Broken Promises

by PhantomWarrior99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWarrior99/pseuds/PhantomWarrior99
Summary: The loss of a loved one is difficult, and archangels don’t handle it well.





	1. Will I?

He's cradling your limp form in his arms. 

Your skin is frigid to the touch, your lips parted in surrender. Ghostly skin losing its warmth hours ago, labored lungs collapsing one final time as you accept the Reaper's outstretched appendage and, ultimately, the sweet embrace of death.

He can almost see it as his fingers gingerly brush against porcelain, anguished tears pricking honey hues.

It's a chaste kiss pressed to your forehead and he's falling apart. It's trembling fingertips grazing your jaw and his heart is shredded. It's one glance at your features and he's reduced to sobs.

He was too late, always too late to save you. You called and he couldn't answer.

_Damn Heaven and its dramatics._

You're gone. He was too late to catch the Reaper. He was too late to smite the Demon. He was too late to save the love of his life.

His head is bowed to yours, his tears pooling on to your cheeks as he clutches your battered frame against his trembling chest. His Grace seeps into your stilled veins, searching--praying--pleading for even a trace of your once vibrant soul.

It's no use and he knows it. It's no use and he's grasping at shadows. It's no use and he doesn't know how he's going to keep going without you.

He begins to remember, the onslaught of memories like a stake through his already marred heart. Then comes the memory that he treasures. You, in his arms, reclining lazily on the beach of some long-forgotten island. Seagulls sound in the distance, waves splash gently against your feet.

The only vacation you had taken in years, and you chose to share it with him. The smile that tugs vainly at the corner of his lips hurts more than he's willing to admit.

He has so many regrets, but--dear Father--his greatest is never telling you. He never told you what floated through that affection-starved mind of his. He never told you how the weight of his loneliness ebbs away to almost nonexistence when you were around. He never told you that your tender smile blocks out every fear, every ache, every haunting memory. And he never told you how much you meant to him--how much he loved--no-- _loves_  you.

Inside, he's screaming, angry and defeated. Outside, he's numb as he hoists your body upwards and carries you away from the carnage. Inside, he's already planned out the most gruesome execution fathomable for the Demon who took you from him. Outside, he lays you beneath a weeping willow tree. Inside, he radios Castiel to meet him in Heaven. Outside, he's already soaring through the skies, Heaven-bound. Inside, he knows what he's going to do.

He's going to save you.

\--------------

"Gabriel, stop."

Castiel's hands are clamped around Gabriel's shoulders, standing between him and the door to your Heaven.

"Cas, move!" His voice leaves little room for argument, but Castiel is stubborn and steadfast.

"Brother, there's nothing you can do for her now."

"I'm an Archangel. We've brought people back from the dead before!" There's agitation in his eyes, a dance of fury-laced gold and determined specks of hazel.

"That's different--"

"How? Because it was never someone important to an individual archangel?!"

"It was immediately after death. She had been dead for a few hours by the time you found her." Castiel explained, tension draining from his features.

There's a tiredness to his eyes as they meet bleeding gold, "I'm sorry, Gabriel, but you can't bring her back."

Gabriel's grip falters for a moment and Castiel is barely fast enough to catch the crumbling archangel.

He's unsure when Gabriel's hands clench desperately around his trench coat, "You don't understand, Cas. I can't lose her."

He's barely holding himself upright, barely holding onto the cloth balled into his fist as the tears stream unnoticed down his cheeks.

"Not now. Not ever. She's the only thing keeping me sane. Don't make me keep going without her." There's a flare of defiance in glistening honey as they bear into sky blue.

"You know it's going to take more than just Angel Grace to bring her back."

"I know, I just--I need to see her. I need to tell her that I'm going to get her out of here."

"Gabriel--"

"Cas,  _please_." He's pleading, begging his little brother.

Castiel allows a glance past his brother before checking the opposite corridor and heaving a defeated sigh, "All right. But be prompt, we don't have much time."

Gabriel is on his feet in an instant, smile replacing desperation within seconds, "Thank you."

He brushes past Castiel and throws open the door. You're sitting on a beach, surrounded by warm sand and emerald palm leaves. Your hand clutches a small pendant around your neck while the other fumbles with an angel dagger Gabriel had given to you, tenderly brushing the pad of your thumb over the flattened side of the weapon.

Your eyes are lost at sea, y/e/c drifting lazily across crashing waves and distant gulls. The soft, salty breeze glides through y/h/c, a vibrant dance of color against the sunny beach.

You're more relaxed than Gabriel has ever seen you, relaxed--yet sad.

He's stepping hesitantly across golden grains, hazel locked on your form for fear of blinking and you're gone.

"Y/N?"

He's inches away and your eyes slide shut, "You're not him."

He's frozen, outstretched appendage recoiling as if burned by holy oil, "Sugar? It's me. It's Gabriel." He's crouching beside you, terror overpowering relief.

"I know you're not real. You'll never be  _him_." You inhale stiffly, back straightening to regain some semblance of dignity.

His eyes drift frantically across your features, "Y/N--?" A hoarse whisper, a shadow of disbelief.

It's a broken plea, a blaring vulnerability outstretched in an otherwise empty void. His eyes slide shut as he shifts closer, settling into a seated position in front of you. His fingers cautiously reach out, whispering across your skin with a gentleness you know all too well.

Your breath hitches, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you pray it's your angel.

His fingers trail up your forearm, Grace swirling along your flesh in a tentative request. You swallow the lump gathering in your throat, your tears slipping down your cheeks when the soft pads of his fingers press tenderly against your temples.

You choke back a sob, hand moving to cover your mouth. He's gentle, a rush and suddenly everything is put right. Suddenly, you recognize his aura. Suddenly, you realize it's  _him_. It's your Gabriel, your golden knight, your archangel.

It's then that you fall apart, eyes snapping open as you lunge into your angel's waiting embrace. No sooner does your head touch his shoulder than his arms fold around you, tugging you close.

Your fingers tangle with the soft curls at the base of his neck, inhaling the soft cinnamon scent of his shirt.

"You came for me," you manage to whisper, a vice grip on his frame.

"Of course I did. I promised I'd always be there when you needed me, didn't I?"

You pull away for a brief moment, offering a shadow of a smirk, "Which is why I died and ended up here."

Gabriel's lips curve into a sheepish grin, "Yeah, I'm, uh--I'm sorry about that." His hands found yours in his lap, eyes focusing on the intricate Enochian tattoo of his name on your forearm.

"I know you did your best, Gabe," you assure him, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

He isn't sure why you're not angry, but he doesn't care. He settles, instead, for what little reassurance he can offer, "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."

"When?" You pry one hand free and push a wayward golden lock behind his ear. Your finger brush against his cheek before settling just above his jawline.

"I don't know--as soon as I can find a spell. Time will only tell how long that will take." His smile falters, hazel searching y/e/c, almost as if he were committing the color, the light, the glittering shades to memory--a memento, a reminder in his darkest times. He needs to save you. He needs to see those eyes of yours on Earth once more.

"Gabriel! We need to go!" Castiel appears in the doorway, drawing both sets of eyes to him.

Gabriel's gaze darts from Castiel back to you, regret and reluctance shining through whiskey, "I'm going to get you out of here. As soon as I find a spell, I'm busting you out. I promise, Y/N."

You offer a tender smile, cupping his cheeks between your hands, "I believe you."

His smile broadens as he drags you close for a passionate kiss, the air in your lungs stolen away by the bruising force of his lips on yours.

His fingers explore your frame, your heart pounding in your chest, his embrace intoxicating.

"Gabriel," a short reminder from the angel in a trench coat. 

You were the first to pull away, brushing a curl behind his ear, "I'll be here waiting, now go."

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, "I love you, Y/N. Don't forget that."

You smile; an upward tilt of the lips, "I love you, too, Gabriel."

He nods, barely capable of tearing his hands away from your soft skin. Your warmth, your very presence--Gabriel isn't sure he can live without it. He's retreating to the door backwards, terrified he'll never see you again.

He's your archangel. He'll swoop in and save you, just as he always does. If only you had more time to assure him, to remind him of his stature and his abilities.

He's frozen in the doorway, Castiel insistently tugging at his arm as the alarm begins to blare in the distant corridor.

"I'll see you soon." He promises, finally relenting and following Castiel through the doorway.

"I'll be here."

\-------------------------


	2. Rain Storms and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sweetest memories hurt the most when you lose the one you love.

It's a raging storm around him and he doesn't care. It's a raging storm and the rain is soaking through his jacket, splaying wet strands of gold to his forehead. It's a raging storm and he can't find the strength to move because it reminds him of you.

You were always fond of thunderstorms, the two of you would curl up in a recliner on the cabin porch, eyes drifting across the spectacle in the sky.

Between the echoing rumbles and brilliant flashes of light, Gabriel would steal glances your way. You would rest your head on his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his and watch the wavering branches dance in the distance.

He could remember the light reflecting against y/e/c, vibrant and beautiful. He could remember the wind catching strands of your hair, tossing them about until you'd tie them into a loose bun and smile up at him.

Dear Father, your smile. It was tender, and gentle and kind. It was wry, affectionate and mischievous all at once. When he closed his eyes, it's all he saw.

Amongst the memories were the times you'd drag him off the porch to dance in the torrential downpour. You'd spin and toss your head back, embracing the droplets as they cascaded down your skin and soaked your clothes and hair. Then you'd turn and look at him, a broad smile painted on your lips as you outstretched your hand and pleaded with him to come dance with you.

A snap of the fingers and there was music, calm and slow as the two of you glided through the water, spinning and dancing and splashing.

And when the music ebbed away and the two of you were left gazing into one another's eyes, Gabriel would hold you close, fingers tucking wet strands away and lips finding one another under the soft light of candles flickering in the distance.

Then, you'd pull away, gazing up at him with such a look of adoration, he prayed he'd never lose you. He'd pick you up, carrying you and your soaked frame into the cabin where you'd lie by the fire and share an evening alone.

Perhaps that's why it hurts so much, perhaps that's why he pushes himself to stand from the mud and shuffle inside the cabin.

He doesn't look at the fireplace, doesn't touch the blanket on the couch that smells so strongly of your perfume. His heart aches and his soul screams, but the pain won't bring you back.

Hell was nothing in comparison to the torment he now endures. The longer you're gone, the more unstable he grows.

So, he retrieves the spell book from the shelf, paging through for the correct incantation. Rowena had offered her help, she's spent the past week searching the Book of the Damned for a solution and he's on edge.

He has to be patient, but patience has never been his strong suit. This is the millionth time he's read this specific piece of lore, and he's exhausted.

He doesn't notice when Castiel appears in the living room, doesn't notice the concerned glances from the newly arrived Winchesters. He's slumped over the book, skimming the chapter through half-lidded eyes.

"Hey, Gabe," Sam greets tentatively, peering at the archangel cautiously.

Gabriel offers a pathetic wave, poring over a spell he's read thousands of times.

"What're you reading?" Dean moves up beside him, attempting to steal a glimpse of the book.

"Spells."

"Right...when's the last time you took a break?"

Gabriel glances at the clock, dramatically,"Less than twenty minutes ago, Dean-O. Now, go away." It's a monotone response, one void of life and enthusiasm.

"Really? Cause you look borderline dead."

"I'm fine," Gabriel retorts shortly, "gotta get her back. Once she's home, everything will be fine."

The brothers look to Castiel for help, hoping to receive some semblance of an explanation.

"He promised Y/N that he'd save her--bring her back to life."

Dean allows his gaze to shift back to Gabriel, "I understand where you're coming from, man, I do. But this isn't how you bring her back.

Gabriel doesn't look up, merely turns the page, "I'm not giving up." It's a half mumble, barely discernible to the two hunters and the angel behind him.  
"No one is suggesting you give up, just--"

"--you're no good to her like this, Gabriel." Sam interjects, coming to his brother's aid.

He shakes his head, pushing stubbornly at drenched gold pressed against his forehead.

"Brother, let's find you some dry clothes. You'll feel better."

"Won't feel better--not until she's...not until she's home, Cas. I can't leave her there. I was too late, I promised, I--"

"Gabriel, listen to yourself. You're rambling, you're drenched," Dean glares disdainfully at the growing puddle beneath the archangel's chair, "and you're exhausted. Get some rest. Sam, Cas and I will take a look at the lore."

"Won't find anything. Been looking for weeks." Gabriel mumbles, reluctantly relinquishing his vice grip on the book, scrubbing roughly at his unfocused eyes.

"Which is exactly why you could use three new sets of eyes on those books. Get some rest and we'll take care of the research." Dean assures him, gently sliding the book back away from him and giving Gabriel's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

The archangel started to protest, looking up at Dean, but found himself too tired. Gold flickered to Castiel and Sam, who both offered a nod of reassurance, before dropping to the floor and resigning to a short nod.

Dean helps him stand, briefly supporting his weight until Cas steps forward and wraps an arm firmly around the archangel's waist.

They're nearly to the door frame when Gabriel turns, "You'll wake me if--"

"If we find anything, yes, we'll wake you." Sam smiled gently, sympathy bleeding through hazel.

He nods shakily, clinging a little tighter to Castiel's jacket as they turn and continue on to the bedroom. He's trembling as Castiel helps him change into a dry t-shirt and sweat pants, trembling when the younger angel helps him over to the bed and tucks him in.

He's trembling when his eyes land on the empty sheets beside him and the memories weigh heavily upon his shoulders.

"I gotta get her back."

It's a quiet murmur, but Castiel turns his gaze away from the door and down to the broken shell with a pillow clutched against his chest.

Gabriel doesn't hear Castiel leave as his eyes drift shut, curling up around the pillow. He doesn't hear the quiet whispers down the hall. He certainly doesn't hear the rumbling storm in distance as he slips into unconsciousness.

He opens his eyes and the sun blazes before him, illuminating the soft sand and lazy waves. He opens his eyes and the salty breeze catches locks of gold. He opens his eyes and you're smiling at him with a warmth he doesn't deserve.

It's a tender smile, one of the many you would offer when he needed it the most. He blinks and you're in front of him, one hand cupping his cheek, the other tucking wayward strands behind his ear.

"Sugar--" it's a breathy whisper, a disbelieving murmur lost to the wind.

"My archangel," you barely manage a word before he sweeps you off your feet, twirling through sand and memories.

Your feet find the beach, but his grip doesn't falter, you're pressed against his chest and if there were air in your lungs, it would have been gone long ago.

It feels like hours when he pulls back to look at you, pressing a desperate kiss to your waiting lips. He's smiling when he pulls away to gaze down at you, but his joy is short-lived.

There's blood trickling from your abdomen, staining the white dress a searing crimson. He stares in horror as the warmth of your skin ebbs away, cheeks hollowing as whiskey met y/e/c.

"Y/N--no! Sugar! Hang on! You're going to be okay, you're--"

"I'm what, Gabriel?" There's a haunting edge to your voice, "I'm gone. You _let me die._  You  _promised_ me!" You shove him, he stumbles backwards, nearly falling into the sand, defenseless and disbelieving, "You  _promised_ you'd always be there, Gabriel!"

"I know! I--I just--" his chest aches and his soul screams as you draw closer. His back meets brick and he spins. It's a raging storm, lightning cracks and thunder rolls and suddenly he's watching you die all over again.

You're fighting, reciting the exorcism as quickly as you can, but there isn't enough time. The Demon--he's too close and you're only a third of the way through. He's too close and suddenly there's a blade buried in your abdomen. He's too close and then you're gone.

Gabriel reels, whirling around at the rush of air behind him; he whirls and your pale form stares him down, frightened and agonized, "Where were you when I needed you the most, Gabe?"

He reaches for you, but his fingers pass through. He reaches for you and there's panic in his eyes, "Y/N--please--I'm going to save you! I promise, I'm going to--"

"--don't make a promise you can't keep, Gabe...you learned that the first time." You're fading away and he's scrambling after you.

"Goodbye, my Gabriel."

"Y/N! No!"

Suddenly he's upright, suddenly his wings are flared out and he's knocked over nightstands and bookshelves. Suddenly Castiel throws open the door and rushes into the room with the Winchesters close behind.

"Gabriel! Are you okay?" Castiel's hands are resting on his shoulders, blue searching whiskey desperately.

He's sweating and panting and he's not sure what happened.

Dean surveys the damage, "Nightmare?"

Gabriel nods numbly, wings folding back behind him, fading away from Earth's plane until the room regained celestial stability.

The brothers exchange a concerned glances as Castiel gathers the stiffened frame of his big brother against him.

"It's all right, Gabriel. It was only a dream."

In his arms, Gabriel's shoulders wrack with sobs, the paralysis having dissipated while he clung to the trench coat.

"It's my fault she's gone, Cas, it's all my fault."

Dean knelt beside the archangel, laying a comforting hand his shoulder, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

Gabriel sat up, pulling away from hunter and angel alike, "It won't be until she's home!"

Dean smirks, standing to his full height and crossing his arms smugly across his chest, "Well, luckily for you, Rowena called."

Gabriel's eyes shot to Dean's face, anxious and hopeful all at once.

"She found a way to bring her back."

 _Thank you, Father._   
\-------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> The plot continues to thicken!  
> Get ready for Chapter 3, folks, cause it's going to be a wild ride!  
> ~ Phantom


	3. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes revenge has to be delayed in order to save the ones we love.

He hates the woods. He hates how little room there is to fly. He hates the crunching leaves beneath his feet.

He never used to. So many things--dear Father--so many aspects of creation remind him of you.

He pauses, casting a glance towards a clearing to his right, eyes drifting across the branches of thin, elegant leaves fluttering in the breeze. He scowls at the weeping willow, a pang of guilt as he swallows the lump in his throat.

He's lost in thought and suddenly there's a snap of the twig behind him. He whirls, hand raised and ready to smite on sight.

"It's not everyday an archangel scours all of Earth and threatens Hell just to find little old me."

Gabriel straightens, hand dropping to his side, "So, you're the dumbass she couldn't finish ganking."

The demon gives a light shrug, almost too nonchalant for Gabriel to handle, "What can I say? I'm one of the best."

"Let's see how that luck of yours serves you now, because unfortunately for you, Crowley gave you up without much of a fight. Almost sounded relieved to get rid of you." Gabriel smirks, taking some trace of satisfaction from the sickened look on his face.

"The King feels threatened, especially after Abaddon and Lucifer." A flash of black orbs, "He's not ready to face the facts. He's washed up. Useless. He's not what's best for Hell!"

Gabriel scoffs indelicately, if he weren't running on rage and grief, he might have even indulged the Demon's complaints before smiting him.

"I don't care about your hellish politics. I don't care about who the hell you are. I'm here to settle a score."

"Oh? Who did I take?"

Gabriel unsheathes his angel blade, admiring the tip for a moment before redirecting his gaze to the demon, "My girlfriend. She was--is a hunter."

"So, just bring her back. You're an archangel, after all." His eyes dart between the blade at the eerie expression etched into Gabriel's features.

"Oh, I would, except, my mojo isn't going to be enough. You see, your sorry ass is the reason she's upstairs and I can't see her. So, for this little spell we're using, we need your blood."

He's begun to feel nervous, bravado and arrogance abandoned long ago as the archangel circles him, admiring the glimmering silver in his hands.

"I'll give you all the blood you need." It's a nervous laugh, "no need to smite me."

Gabriel snorts, "Oh, we're way past smiting, my friend. First, I'm going to take the blood we need." He rolls the angel blade in his hand, wrist flexing, "then, we're going to pay a visit to the Winchesters' dungeon where they have all sorts of fun toys."

The demon shudders, the tip of the angel blade grazing between his shoulder blades, "Come on, angel, I--"

A snap of the fingers and the demon is thrown against a tree, pinned in place by grace as Gabriel paces closer.

"Don't  _angel_ me. You knew what you were doing when you killed her."

"I didn't know who she was! If I'd had known she was some archangel's whore, I never--"

A rush of air and Gabriel's blade is to the demon's throat, "Why don't you go ahead and finish that sentence?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice, one rarely drawn forth from the mild-mannered archangel.

His eyes dart from the blade to the archangel's scowl, shaking his head quietly, terror in his eyes.

"That's what I thought. Don't try to smoke out." Gabriel jerks the demon cuffs from his jacket pocket, slapping them on his captive's wrists.

The snap echoes in the demon's ears before  they're inside the Men of Letters' bunker, drawing the attention of Sam and Rowena, who simultaneously glance up from the Book of the Damned.

"You got him."

Gabriel gives the demon an abrupt shove forward, angel blade at the ready when he whirls around, seething hatred and fear all at once.

The archangel isn't fazed, merely spins their captive back around and allows Sam to catch hold of his arm.

"Of course, I did. Is that everything on the list?" He moves past Sam, coming to stand beside Rowena and scour the pages of the ancient text as if he could actually read it.

"Everything but the archangel grace," Rowena returns, anxiously aware of the archangel's questionable stability, both psychologically and physically.

Gabriel nods, "I'll give you that when we actually start the spell."

She nods, starting after Sam and their demon captive, leaving Gabriel quiet and alone in the library.

Whisky orbs drift across ancient writing, unable to comprehend, yet intent upon doing something--anything to drown the prominent sense of uselessness eating away at his soul.

He'd give anything to cradle you in his arms once more, to hear you laugh, to see you smile. He'd give anything, and that included his very life.

Unfortunately, there were no deals to be struck, no whimsical snap of the fingers that would enable your immediate return--even the plan they'd come up with carried no small amount of danger.

It was a risk he was willing to take--he knew that if your roles had been reversed, you wouldn't rest until your angel was safely home, enveloped in your warm embrace.

He can almost feel your fingertips trailing along his spine, warm and affectionate just as you had always done, ghosting over the ridged bones attaching powerful wings to his skeletal structure. He can almost feel your hands tenderly combing gold away from his eyes--when he closes his eyes, your smile, your warmth--it's all he can see, all he can feel. The sensations are almost enough to elicit a quiet shiver, but when he turns, there's no one there--phantom or not.

And it drives the stake ever-further into his fracturing heart. You haunt his every dream, a tormented scream begging him to save you or the two of you wrapped beneath blankets, a mess of tangled limbs and passionate kisses that always end gruesome.

He blinks and he's inside your room, your body in a sort of suspended animation that Rowena assures him will keep it preserved until he can retrieve your soul. He hovers near the edge of the bed before cautiously taking a seat close to you, an anxious energy coming in waves off the archangel.

His fingers reach out, brushing lightly across frigid, porcelain skin, the tears pooling anew in the corner of his eyes.

"I'm gonna get you back, I promise." He doesn't dare disturb your frame, too frightened he'll damage something delicate.

This is where Dean and Castiel find him, gazing longing down at your body, tears slipping unnoticed down his cheek.

"Gabriel."

His eyes snap up, blood shot eyes landing on the duo in the doorway.

"We're ready." Dean gives a short nod towards the dungeon.

"Right," Gabriel stands, scrubbing away the trails of salt down his skin, allowing one last glance down at your still form. He isn't sure how, but he musters the strength to leave the room.

"The demon is still alive. If this doesn't work the first time, we'll need more of his blood--"

"--it'll work. It has to." Gabriel interjects, finishing quietly as they moved through the compound."

"I'm going to gut each and every single one of you, your souls are going to burn for eternity in Hell! Then I'm going after Crowley, he's going to feel my wrath for betraying me! Your archangel--he's gonna be last! I'm going to--"

"Going to what?" Dean challenges with an amused smirk, noticing the color drain from the demon's face as his eyes settle on the skeptical archangel in the doorway.

"Going to get himself smited ahead of time," Gabriel retorts, tilting his head threateningly.

The demon settled quietly into his seat, eyes shifting to the floor, frightened into silence by the intense glower of the two angels in the room.

"That's what I thought." Dean strides the rest of the way into the room, casually lifting the angel blade from the assortment of tools on the table, "we ready?"

"We've got the demon blood, just need some archangel grace." Sam returns, nodding to Gabriel.

"You heard the man," Dean holds the blade out to Gabriel, who quietly accepts.

Whiskey orbs flicker over to the demon, who wisely chooses not to meet his gaze. The snap echoes through the dungeon and for a split second, the Winchesters worry he smited the demon. It isn't until all eyes turn back to their captive that they notice the mystical gag.

"Don't want any unwelcome additions to the spell," he remarks offhandedly, refocusing his attention on the blade in his hand.

Dean shrugs, the signature Winchester, fair enough expression crossing his features before he moves to stand beside Sam.

Gabriel's face contorts in pain as he harvests the grace, every nerve screams, every ounce begging to heal the wound in his neck. He only gives in after a small amount of grace trickles into the vial, shoving the glass towards the witch and brushes a thumb over the slit to close it.

After a moment's examination, Rowena nods her approval and turns to begin the spell.

"Are you all right?" Castiel lays a hand on his big brother's shoulder, noting the diminished color to the archangel's skin.

Gabriel offers a shaken nod, "I'm fine, I just--" he rubs at his eyes, as if doing so will chase away the nightmares, as if he can banish the exhaustion with a mere brush of the knuckles, "I didn't realize how much I was relying on grace to keep me going."

"Here, sit down," Sam takes his other arm, pulling a chair over and helping him reluctantly into the seat.

"I need to--"

"-- _sit_." Castiel pushes the weakened archangel back into his chair. "You're no good to Y/N if you're too drained to help her."

"He has a point, dear. The spell will have to be combined with your powers in order to bring her back." Rowena interjects with a pitying look, "the spell will take a few hours to reach full potential. You need to rest or you'll be no good to any of us."

Gabriel glances between the four faces leveled on him, defeat seeping into his frame, "Fine," he finds the strength to stand with no small help from Castiel, "but as soon as that spell is ready--"

"--we'll come get you, now go to bed." Dean waves him off, turning back to the book and bowl on the table.

It's a short nod, laced with impatience and anxiety, but he has no choice. He has to wait just a little while longer to cradle you in his arms, to kiss you until your lungs beg for air, to fulfill his promise.

It isn't until he's resting once more in his room, gazing down at a photograph of the two of you lying in a bouncy house that he dares to utter the words he's murmured every night since you'd passed.

"I'm going to get you back, sugar. I promise."

\------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed chapter 3! Be on the lookout for Chapter 4 in November!
> 
> ~ Phantom


	4. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacrifices have to be made to achieve our goals.

He's up before Castiel makes it to the door, throwing open the metal barrier, "The spell's ready?"

Castiel's hand drops to his side, "Yes, it's ready. But--"

A flap of the wings and Gabriel is already in the dungeon. Castiel heaves a sigh, shoulders sagging before he appears behind them all, "--it needs something that belongs to Y/N."

The archangel nods, casting a glance towards the makeshift bed the Winchesters had moved your body to for the spell. He's cautious as he kneels beside you, gingerly unclasping the silver pendant around your neck.

His fingers linger, ghosting across porcelain skin, cool and clammy to the touch. There's a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "We're almost there, sugar. I'll see you soon."

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and retreats back to the others, opening his clenched fist to display the piece of jewelry, "All set."

Rowena nods, "Good. We should begin now that the harvest moon is highest."

"Wait--what?" Dean questions, traces of concern seeping into his gaze as his arms fold across across his chest.

"The spell only works with harvest moons and they say tonight is supposed to be the brightest in a _thousand years_." Sam supplies with mock enthusiasm.

"Right, because a spell relying on a solar alignment isn't creepy at  _all_." Dean returns, perching himself against the far cabinet patiently.

"Wouldn't be the worst thing we've ever had to do."

"Now that your skepticism is out of the way, why don't the two of you pipe down so we can get under way?" Rowena interjects pointedly, preparing to recite the incantation.

Sam barely manages to hide the snort of amusement, but not before Dean shoots him a meaningful look laced with annoyance.

As the witch begins her spell, Gabriel steps up beside her, clenching the silver chain in his hand a little tighter, summoning every ounce of grace he has left.  
He doesn't hear the ancient chant, doesn't register the silence beside him until she touches his shoulder. The chill seeps into his frame, a tainted magic thought lost to the centuries suddenly surges through his veins.

It's exhilarating, a rush of power that not even Michael had experienced in all his time in Heaven.

Gabriel nearly loses his footing, struggling to find an anchor in the ocean of energy swirling  behind his eyes. It's all he can see, all he can feel--he's drowning in it.

"Gabriel, focus."

Castiel's voice grounds him and Gabriel turns his eyes skyward, brilliant blue piercing once honey-hued orbs. Every muscle screams, every bones rumbles beneath the onslaught of power. His fingers reach up and then he sees your face. He reaches up and then he's standing behind you.

"Y/N?"

Y/e/c lifts from the ocean, slowly turning away from the cool waves kissing your feet to face him. He looms over you, angelic by every definition of the word and suddenly you're staring upwards at the glowing gaze of your archangel.

"Gabriel?" Disbelieving. Cautious. Tentative.

The smile that spreads across his lips is alluring, but it isn't what draws your attention--it's the golden wings that flare behind him in a manner you've never seen.

They're almost like a dream, elegant and glistening beneath the soft rays of sunshine streaming between palm leaves and as your eyes trace every delicate feather, you hardly notice Gabriel helping you to your feet.

It isn't until he gathers you into his arms that you're able to tear your eyes away from the feathered marvel before you and settle on gaze bleeding adoration.

"You came back."

He allows what looks like a smug smile to crawl across his lips, tugging at the corner of his mouth while whiskey drinks in every inch of your features.

"I told you I would."

He's being cocky, or, at the very least, trying to be cocky. The confident facade crumbles the moment you tug him downwards into a kiss.

It's passionate and tender, needy yet cautious. His fingers find their way to your jawline and he loses all restraint. A once affectionate kiss turns bruising, stealing the air from your lungs and grief from your heart.

His hands are firm against your skin, tracing rosy flesh once thought lost to him, securing your smaller frame against his. A hand travels to your hair and with his lips dancing urgently with yours, you begin to detect the faint echoes of the world below.

_"How much longer can he keep this up?" There's panic in Sam's voice._

_"Not long. Gabriel! Get Y/N and get **out** of there!"_

Castiel's voice rings in your ears and you pull away from the warm embrace.  
Gabriel's features contort in confusion, whiskey bleeding dejection and concern, "Sugar?" He reaches for you, but you hold up a hand to halt his advance.

"Gabe, what did you do?" Your voice is falters and Gabriel's heart breaks all over again.

He hesitates and you peer up at him through long lashes, "Please...please say it wasn't something stupid."

"It's a spell," he admits, "Rowena found it in the Book to the Damned." His head snaps abruptly to the side, features contorting in pain.

You close the distance between you, touching his cheek gingerly, "Gabe?"

"I'm okay, but we need to leave. Now." His hand falls to your wrist, "you trust me?"

"Always."

Your words coax a reassured smile from the archangel as he tugs you into his arms, binding your soul with his grace. The beach fades, and suddenly you're standing in the bunker, enveloped in the embrace of your angel.

For a split-second, he's allowed a fleeting glimpse of your eyes, vibrant and--oh Father-- _alive_. He clutches you close, chin resting on the crown of your head, savoring the warmth returning to your body.

For a split-second, all is right in the world. For a split-second, you're  _home_.

And when the second passes, he's convulsing on the floor, your terrified screams echoing in his ears before the world fades to black.  
\---------------  
"Gabriel. Gabe, you need to wake up."

"Five more minutes," incoherent garble.

"Gabe, please...wake up."

His eyes snap open, subconsciously registering the fear in your voice. He nearly makes it to a seated position when your arms wrap around his neck and he's falling back onto the pillows behind him. You cling to him and you don't let go.

He's not on the floor, let alone in the dungeon. A quick glance around the room reveals it to be the bedroom the two of you share. Memories flash, muscles groan as it all comes back.

It takes him a moment to register your body clinging to his and he manages to wrap an arm gently around your waist.

"What happened?"

"Spell sapped more of your grace than we thought it would. You went into shock." Dean supplies from his perch by the door.

The archangel nods slowly, holding you a little closer--if not for you, then for him. The sacrifice was worth it, you're alive, curled up beside him with a vice grip around his frame, traces of tears drying atop soft skin.

"Cas says you'll be okay, but your grace is gonna take some time to regenerate."  
The archangel nods, daze and disorientation forgotten as he cracks a grin and looks to Dean, "Tell my little bro I said thanks."

Dean smirks, stepping in close enough to give his shoulder a friendly pat, "Welcome back, man. You too, Y/N."

"Thanks, De." You offer a quiet grin and snuggle closer to Gabriel.

Gabriel waits until the door clicks shut before he rolls onto his side and captures your lips with his. He smiles into the kiss, muffling the laugh that slips past your lips as he pushes you onto your back. Fingers slide to cup your cheek, the other arm wraps securely around your waist, guiding you closer.

He's gentle, always so gentle, as every ounce of anguish and loneliness bears its soul to you in the form of a kiss. Your head spins and your heart races, fueling the desire to tangle your fingers in golden locks and savor every sense--the warmth covering your smaller frame, the subtle scent of sugar and cinnamon just beneath his shirt, the calloused fingers ghosting across every inch of your skin.

"Dear Father, I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

You're seconds away from undoing the third button on his shirt when the door swings open and Gabriel's head drops to your shoulder in frustration.

Sam stops dead in his tracks, recognizing the telltale signs of disheveled hair and crinkled clothing, "Sorry to interrupt, but, uh--"

"You're killing me, Samsquatch. You know that, right?" The archangel rolls onto his back, giving Sam a pointed look, something vaguely resembling the desire to smite him.

You swat Gabriel's arm, and sit up, much to the angel's disappointment, "What's up, Sam?"

"Uh, right. So, we still have that demon downstairs--"

"--demon?" Your features contort in confusion, halting the process of smoothing your hair down, "What demon?"

"The one that...killed you. We needed his blood to, you know, bring you back." Sam offers tentatively, slowly backing towards the door.

"Why the hell is he still breathing?" Your gaze turns pointedly to the man scratching the back of his head beside you.

"I thought you'd want to finish the job once you were back." Gabriel offers a sheepish grin.

You snort, admiring the adorable expression for a second before turning back to Sam, "Well, let's not keep our guest waiting any longer than we have to."

Sam smiles, giving a short nod and starting towards the dungeon with you dragging Gabriel off the bed and scampering after the large hunter.

Rowena's already gone when the three of you arrive in the dungeon, the demon scowling at Dean who perched himself in the corner with a beer and a smirk.

"We ready to send this bastard to the Empty?" Dean perks up a little, noting the momentary look of panic in the demon's eyes.

"You got an angel blade?" You release Gabriel's hand and level your gaze with the demon.

"Always," Dean picks up the blade, tossing it to Sam who holds it out to you.

"Oh, now I remember you. The bitch who didn't put up much of a fight." It's a last ditch attempt at dignity, going out with a sneer and a smirk.

You don't flinch, merely tilt your head to the side, "I killed all your buddies. You, on the other hand, you're a little stronger than the others. Haven't seen another like Crowley in a long time," your finger trails along the edge of the blade as you pace closer, "doesn't matter though."

"You keep that blade away from me! Crowley will--"

"--do  _what_? He told me himself, he wants you dead." Gabriel scoffs.

"Face it, pal, you're on your own." Dean adds, handing Sam a beer, "and you're not going to hell. You're going somewhere _much_ worse."

The panic builds behind the vessel's eyes, "Please! If you kill me, this vessel dies too!"

Now it's your turn to scoff, "You're not fooling anyone. That vessel's been dead for three years." You stop beside him, tightening your grip on the blade in your hand.

"Enjoy the Empty, asshole."

Silver meets flesh and brilliant yellow flares behind brown eyes. It lasts for a few fleeting moments before the empty body sags into the chair, leaving the group in silence.

"Well, points for the one liner, but that ending was pretty anti-climactic." Gabriel remarks after a moment, folding his arms across his chest.

You turn, shifting your weight to one leg and resting a hand on your hip, "Seriously?"

"You know, it would have been better with some dramatic lighting, a monologue about him taking everything away from you, ruining your life, yada yada yada."  
Sam and Dean exchange a look of amusement, barely masking their laughs with coughs when your disapproving eyes land on them.

"Come on, Sam, I think Cas needs us in the library," Dean starts past his brother, "something about needing some  _dramatic lighting_."

Dean's halfway to the door when your shoe comes hurtling at him, a throw he narrowly escapes and half-runs, half-shuffles out of the dungeon with Sam at his heels.

Gabriel turns back to you, "Well, now that twiddledee and twiddledumb are gone, how about we go back to the room? I really liked where that particular activity was going, and--"

A roll of the eyes and you're already guiding him back to the bedroom, "No interruptions this time."

"No arguments here, sugar." He tugs you back to his chest for a split second, gazing into your eyes, committing every shade to memory.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, my archangel.”

\------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> And that, my friends, is a wrap on Broken Promises!  
> Thank you all for sticking with me through this mini-series! You're fabulous!  
> ~ Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I wrote it inside of three days, and honestly...that's a record. XD  
> Feel free to leave a kudo/comment and let me know your thoughts!  
> ~ Phantom


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